


Malerisch

by Lady_MorGONE



Category: Naruto
Genre: Artist Gaara, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Not meant to be romance, Romance, Very OOC Gaara, my subconscious made me do it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-24
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2018-05-15 23:13:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5804056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_MorGONE/pseuds/Lady_MorGONE
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He had never seen something so picturesque. Malerisch is picturesque in German. Not meant to be romantic, however from the way I've been writing it, Malerisch will end up as a romance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was pure. The stretched canvas of white was propped up in front of him, the pure, untouched world staring back at him.

                He hated it. Why couldn’t something just come to his mind, just so _something_ – _anything_ at this point – could be painted onto it, just so the white canvas wouldn’t be so…so _white_.  White was boring; nobody wants a white canvas on display in a museum, or in their house. They want something beautiful, something that will be cherished and revered forever.

                He went to the best school for the arts just so he could have a chance to become as idolized as Da Vinci or Picasso. He knew the best way to control how thick you wanted a line to be, knew how to plan without paper and pencil. Hell, he even knew how to get inspiration without actually being inspired.

                So why was none of that coming to mind now? He had to have a picture done by tomorrow for a class project, he was running out of time! He can’t just sit here!

                Groaning, he rubbed his scalp, unintentionally spiking up his red hair. He’d be more productive sleeping than this, he thought angrily. Feeling his phone vibrate, he checked the caller ID. Sending a silent prayer to God, he answered.

                “What is it Naruto?” He asked. Maybe his friend could help him out. The blond always had the ability to help him when he was stuck in situations like this. He

                “What’cha doin’ Gaara?” Gaara winced silently as his friends loud voice hit his ear.

                “Sitting here doing nothing. “ Well, he was technically doing something, but hey – technicalities.

                “You’re stuck, aren’t you? Go take a walk! There’s a park near the college, right? Take your stuff and go there! The fresh air will help, trust me! And you need to tan; you’re looking as pale as a ghost!” Gaara snorted.

                “Yeah, sure. You seem to keep forgetting that it is physically impossible for me to tan, Naruto. Does Sophomore year ring any bells?” During their spring break sophomore year, Naruto, Gaara, and their group of friends went down south to the beach, to swim and have fun as a makeshift family. Naruto ended up tying Gaara to a beach chair after the latter said that he couldn’t tan, and would only burn. That evening resulted with Naruto and Gaara in agony, for different reasons.

                “Oh, hehe, that. Yeah, I remember. But still, get outside! You may get inspired by looking at flowers, or cloud-watching!”

                “Don’t mention cloud-watching.” He couldn’t think of his sister’s husband. That would bring bad thoughts, evil thoughts that Temari would castrate him for if she ever found out about them.

                “Sorry. Well, I’ve gotta go! Hinata’s waiting for me! Good luck!” The dail tone met his ears, and Gaara sighed. Whether he liked it or not, Naruto was right. The blond may be an idiot when it comes to school, but he was great at helping others. So, following his friend’s advice, he packed his easel, paints, and canvas; setting off to the park.

**X**

**Random line breaker because I don’t know how to use the page break in fanfiction**

**X**

                Going outside so far hasn’t helped much. His canvas was still blank, but his stomach was full. He had forgotten about lunch. Looking around the park, nothing really seemed to spark any inspiration within his creative mind.

                This whole thing was really starting to piss him off. He turned around, trying to find something, or someone. At this point, he take the chance of appearing to be a stalker. Anything to get his damn painting done! Gaara was about to give up, when a person caught his eye.

                Lying down on the grass, about 15 feet away, he estimated, was a young women. She had her eyes closed, but her tan skin complimented her light brown hair, the strands following the light breeze blowing through the park. He knew it was weird – a bit concerning actually – that he was looking at her so intensely, but he couldn’t get her out of his head.

                He had never seen a moment as picturesque as this moment was. Is this what true inspiration feels like? He felt like he could paint a million pictures of her. He hoped that she wouldn’t wake up soon; he needed to paint the basics of her body first. Maybe when she wakes up he’ll have the courage to talk to her. Maybe, if they get along, he’ll get to paint her again.

                Smiling slightly, he dipped his brush, and began to paint.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I tried to edit it; I really did. The format for the first and second chapters don't add up, and that annoys me


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is set a year or two after the first chapter.

The soft clanging of dishes being washed was hardly heard as the paintbrush was carefully drawn down the canvas, a thin dark blue trail in its place. The paintbrush was lifted off, and soon connected the line to some dark blue hills, to another line. Gaara surveyed his work. So far, all was good.

He had been commissioned to paint a picture of a businessman’s youngest daughter, an adorable 6 year old with blonde – almost white – hair, and sparkling blue eyes that made almost anyone melt. In the picture he was asked to reference, she was wearing a blue dress with short flowing sleeves, a light purple sash around her waist and an airy skirt that dropped to her calves. She was an adorable girl, he agreed.

The picture was almost done. However, there was something that made it despicable in his eyes. Now, it had been a few years since he graduated art school, and a few years since he ever painted a person, but that was no excuse.

He had put too much yellow into her hair, and it looked like he threw a glob of paint on it. It made the painting look abysmal. How the hell could he fix it? The worse thing was that the hair was the _only_ problem. The dress was great, the background was amazing – he really prided himself on that, it was abstract, and for the life of him he _could not paint abstractly_ – but it was hair. The hair. The stupid hair.

Why is he freaking out over a paintings hair?

“Hey Gaara. How’s the painting going?” Gaara turned his head. His friend, Matsuri was standing behind him, looking over his shoulder.

“It’s awful. I hate it. I need to start over.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. The painting looks great!” While he appreciated the sentiment, it didn’t help him at all. Unlike him, Matsuri couldn’t paint to save her life. Actually, she couldn’t do anything remotely artistic. That’s why she was always over at his apartment: she liked watching him paint because she couldn’t. The one time she tried…

“What’s so great about it?” Matsuri paused, then tilted her head and stared at the painting for a while. Even though he asked for her opinion, he wished he could take it back. He really didn’t like people scrutinizing his art, it made him feel…insecure. He inwardly shivered at the fact that he could feel such a thing.

“Well, the dress is really pretty, and the background looks really nice, especially since abstract is as hard for you as art is for me in general. And the hair…” She stared at the hair for a few seconds, then burst out laughing, earning a scowl from him. “You’re upset about the hair?!” She exclaimed, after controlling her loud laughter to loud giggling. “Why? It looks fine!” Gaara felt his face getting hot; dammit he was blushing!

“You know that it’s fixable, right?” He stared at her incredulously. Fixable? How is an eyesore like that _fixable_?

“No, it’s not, Matsuri. I’m the artist here, not you.” He replied irately. She ignored him, and walked toward him.

“Stop being so close-minded. Seriously, if you keep doing that, you’re going to fall. Don’t artists have to be open-minded? Look,” She instructed, taking the end of a clean brush and pointing it at the painting. “The yellow isn’t dry yet, so you can take some of the extra and even out the ends. And if you look at the picture, her hair goes down to her waist, so you’ve made the hair too short. All you have to do is take the excess yellow, and lengthen the hair as well as add some depth to it. See? Fixable.” She stated proudly, placing the brush back into the cup with a flourish. He took another look at it. Maybe he could remove it, besides, it looks like he went a little thin in the middle…

“Gaara, just because I can’t draw or paint, doesn’t mean that I don’t understand the theory that goes along with it. Don’t underestimate me, got it?” She stated the last part indignantly, although they both knew that she was joking.

“Yeah, yeah,” He brushed the light stab off dryly, “Now leave me alone. I need to fix this, and with how much noise you make I might make it worse.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the long wait, I had this chapter typed up (I post this story on Fanfiction.net if you want to read all 4 chapters now under the same pen name) but kept forgetting to update AO3.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAHA HOW LONG HAS IT BEEN GUYS?! Anyway, I feel like I've offended many people in Gaara's situation when I wrote this, but I'm gonna post it anyway because the guilt of leaving this alone for so long has been eating me alive.

**Once again, another time skip! I’m sorry, but I don’t know how to continue this without making it full of time skips…because I suck at continuity. Anyway, this takes place a few months after chapter 2, because why not.**

                The sound of rain pounding onto the roof was what woke him up from his fitful sleep. The fact that he was sleeping with other people in the room didn’t help. So he stared out the window, watching the rain fall.

                This became routine for him. While as good an artist as he was, he wasn’t very well known. Usually unknown artists are unable to make a living on their artistic talent. Gaara was one of those many people.

                He lost his apartment a couple months ago, and began sleeping at the local homeless shelters ever since. He still was an artist, however due to his lack of money he could only complete black and white sketches. Every day he would go to the library, and check his eBay account **(1)** , where he would place the drawings up for sale. Despite the fact that he cringed whenever he looked at his art – he preferred painting to sketching, but he really didn’t have a choice in the matter, did he – it sold relatively well, and it was enough to keep his phone going. As long as he had his cell phone, everything would be fine.

                After all, he didn’t exactly tell Temari and Kankuro about his living situation…

                But even if he did, Matsuri would find out first. And she would kill him for not telling her. However, her living conditions weren’t the best either. But she had an apartment as well, shared with her roommate, Tenten. He and Tenten got along relatively well, but he wasn’t going to be rude and impose himself on them. Tenten and Matsuri were waitresses at Sasha’s Bakery, which was a rather popular bakery with the locals. They were paid a whole lot more than minimum wage, however money was considered tight between the two of them. He would only be dead weight.

                And so began this long, tiring, battle against something he couldn’t win against.

                Seeing as he had nothing to do, he took out his sketchbook – which was running out of paper, he should have enough money saved up to buy a new one by now – and began to sketch. It was going to be a simple picture, a young girl standing out in the rain, umbrella over her head and hand out to feel the water falling out of the sky.

                When he finished drawing, he inspected the picture. Laughing silently, he marveled at how Matsuri and the girl looked similar.

                He knew that he had a small crush on her – who wouldn’t – she was nice to everyone, and was rather pretty. Not to mention that many of his drawings that had sold for high prices were inspired by her.

                Okay, maybe he had a bit of an obsession with her as well. But that’s beside the point. The drawing was done. Maybe he could finish one more before his inspiration ran out…

                Something began moving between his legs, and he nearly shrieked, only to realize that the movement was coming from his phone. He forgot that he put it in the front pocket of his oversized jacket. Okay, bad place for it then **(2)**. He checked the caller ID and winced.

                Matsuri was calling. Matsuri was calling at…3am, if the clock on his phone was accurate. Something bad was about to happen. He could feel it.

                Getting out of the bed, he quickly – and quietly, some of these people are light sleepers – he got outside of the room, and rushed to the exit, standing in front of it before answering the phone.

                “Matsuri, what is it?”

                “Gaara. Where are you?” Where am I? What does she mean by – oh shit. She found out, didn’t she?

                “Gaara. Answer me. Where. Are. You?” Her voice was dangerous, dammit, why did he have to lie and say that his apartment was being renovated, dammit dammit dammit dammit –

                “In my apartment. Matsuri, it’s 3 in the morning.” He was surprised, and a little smug at how calm his voice was, however the smugness was blown away when he heard an intake of breath over the phone.

                “Oh really? So the old man who answered the door this morning was you? Do you really expect me to believe that?” Her voice was accusing, and did he detect hurt? Well, he did lie to her after all…

                “No, no I don’t.”

                “So let me repeat the question. Where are you?”

                “I’m at a homeless shelter. You know; the one between Helmsford and State?” He knew that she knew which one he was talking about; he and Matsuri volunteered here for a couple years to help the shelter with the influx of people for Christmas.

                “Stay there. I’m coming.” Did she say what he thinks she just said? Coming over? Hell no.

                “No you’re not.”

                “Yes. I am.” Her voice was adamant, and he sighed over the phone. Shy did she have to be so damn stubborn?

                “Matsuri. You’re staying where you are. Even if you picked me up, where the hell would I go?” He didn’t have enough money to afford an apartment; he’d just end up here again!

                “I’ve got it covered, don’t worry. You’ll stay here – and yes, Tenten is fine with it, we’ll be sharing my room – and Sasha’s looking for a baker, since our other one quit, so there’s a job for you. You’re good at baking, and Sasha doesn’t require any formal training **(3)**. You’ll be fine, trust me.” She sounded so confident, it was nauseating.

                “Matsuri, listen to me. You and Tenten are financially tight, you can’t possibly afford to house another person, regardless of me getting a job or not!”

                “And you’re not listening to me when I said that you’ll be fine.” She shot back. Her overconfidence was getting on his nerves.

                “Why the hell are you doing all of this?” The words slipped out of his mouth without even thinking. Matsuri didn’t respond, an awkward silence reigned over their phone call. He shouldn’t have said that, his current situation was no excuse. He shouldn’t have been that rude to her. He opened his mouth to apologize, when, almost silently, an exasperated breath was caught by the mic, and Matsuri finally replied, a fond undertone to her voice.

                “Just stay there, idiot. I’m coming to get you. Don’t you dare move.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1)- For the sake of this story, eBay is going to exist. I was going to put Etsy down, but I can’t imagine Gaara using an Etsy. I think it’s just the way the name sounds XD  
> (2)- My friend put her phone between her legs once and her mom called her. It began to vibrate and she freaked out. Sorry, had to put this in there. Gaara’s having a bad time, let’s have him slip up once in a while.  
> (3)- Now, I don’t know if any formal training is required other than being at least 18, but for this story, there is none.
> 
> I'm sorry guys I tried.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is on FF.net, but I'm posting it here. This story was originally not meant to be a romance, but so far it has ended up as one. I blame my brain.
> 
> I also apologize for the fact that my story looks like a text wall. I'm still trying to get the hang of this. Hopefully I can fix it soon.


End file.
